


A Certain Familiarity

by kiitos



Category: Thick of It (UK)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiitos/pseuds/kiitos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the fourth series. Malcolm is acquitted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Certain Familiarity

Malcolm gets acquitted, much to everyone’s surprise, especially his. Even with all his underhanded effort, there was absolutely no way he could have escaped conviction, and yet here he is. A part of him is severely pissed off at the incompetence of the entire legal system, but mostly he is actually pretty fucking relieved. He wouldn’t have done well in jail, although maybe he could have organised the prisoners into some sort of workable party.

As it stands, he’s waiting at the court house for a car that would pick him up according to the text on the Blackberry that had been newly restored to his possession. It had been an unknown number but right now he would have taken a fucking bendy bus out of here, away from the gawking ministers and aides who had come to see him go down, only to be fucking disappointed. Well, fuck them all, he was going to stand tall and wait right here.

Al Jolson. The car was playing Al fucking Jolson, and something in Malcolm’s chest lurches sideways. The black Mercedes pulls up and when the door opens, Malcolm’s knees actually fucking tremble at the sight of a familiar mess of black curls.

“Alright, you cunt?” Jamie fucking MacDonald intones, grinning his stupid shit-eating grin.

Malcolm continues to be stunned for about half a second before he slips back into the easy familiarity of talking to Jamie.

“Took your time, you fucking prick.” He greets in return, a reptilian smile gracing his gaunt features.

If he wasn’t expecting the sheer presence of Jamie, he certainly wasn’t expecting the stupid fucker to walk straight up to him and hug him so hard his spine cracks in protest.

“Poor old fuck,” Jamie murmurs as he lets go, so quiet Malcolm is sure only he heard it. It was the closest Jamie got to a pet name for him and it made Malcolm feel warm and fucking fuzzy. He’s about to swear a stream of his personal favourite insults when Jamie whirls on the balls of his feet to face the opposition which now meant fucking everyone that wasn’t Malcolm or Jamie.

“That’s right, cunts.” Jamie snarls to no-one in particular but somehow managing to make everyone looked as though he was addressing them personally. Especially Terri. “I’m back. And if I find out that any of you fucking well said anything remotely negative about my Malcolm, I’ll rip out your fucking spleens and make your wear them as fucking g-strings. And that’s just for starters.”

(If anyone noticed the addition of the word 'my' they very fucking smartly didn't mention it.)

Terri was now looking especially worried. Ollie was looking a wee bit grey around the gills and as well he fucking should because Jamie suddenly rounds on him.

“And you, you fucking treacherous, limp-cocked, half-witted lump of festering shit. If you ever think you can fucking replace me again, I will fuck you so hard your lungs will fucking feel it. And then I’ll pull them out of your throat and force feed them back to you.” And then, as an after-thought. “And you’ll fucking listen to the great Al Jolson all the way fucking through, and you’ll like it.”

He grins his most malevolent grin and holds open the passenger side door for Malcolm.

“Thank you.” Malcolm smirks, looking deservedly smug. “But you’ll not be fucking anyone but me.”

Jamie just laughs his psychotic bark of a laugh and speeds down the road and out of fucking Westminster forever.

Or until the next massive cock-up and he and Malcolm are needed right fucking now.


End file.
